


I'd Kill for You. Well, Not Killing, 'Cuz That's Crude. But I'd Unalive for You.

by NotVerySmol



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Attempt at Humor, BRIEF (SOMEWHAT GRAPHIC) MENTION OF SUICIDE, M/M, Minor Character Death, No Angst, Stan Lee Cameo, Wade Is Death, Wade's a stalker, but i can’t so oh well, but it’s not from peter or wade, death au, honestly if i could rate this somewhere between teen and mature i would, like literally the grim reaper, minor gore, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 20:42:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19776046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotVerySmol/pseuds/NotVerySmol
Summary: Spideypool Death AU. Peter speaks without thinking it through and Wade takes up the challenge.





	I'd Kill for You. Well, Not Killing, 'Cuz That's Crude. But I'd Unalive for You.

**Author's Note:**

> by the way, i have no clue if my math is correct. i tried my best to make it logical and i DID look up how many people die in a day and used a calculator, but i’m not sure

Another car zoomed by, splashing Peter with water while he waited for the stoplight to change. He wiped his face with his arm, then shook the water off. This light was taking f _orever_ , he just wanted to get to May's in time for dinner. He knew if he was even five minutes late she'd start to worry. Like how last week there was a line at the supermarket while he was trying to get her favorite ice cream (java chip) and he arrived at 6:15 instead of 6 and she was on the phone with 911, trying to get them to find him. The officers arrived anyway and ended up staying for dinner. They were kinda funny, but still. Peter would rather that not happen tonight.

He snapped out of his thoughts as a car honked. Glancing up, he saw the cars piled up in the intersection, waiting for him to cross. He grimaced at the angry faces in their driver's seats, but no sooner had he stepped into the street did he hastily step back again and to the left as a hydroplaning car flew by him and crashed into the streetlight just on his right. Smoke billowed from the engine, and the pole had driven into the driver's side.

Unfortunately for Peter, there was no doubt that whoever had been driving the car was now dead.

People started to gather around the car, gasping and, in one lady's case, sobbing uncontrollably. Peter hurried to cross the street, maybe he could escape in all this commotion. However, his heart dropped as he heard the gasps grow louder, and a *thump* that indicated the lady fainted.

"Baby boy! Where ya hurrying off to?"

Peter stopped in the street but refused to let himself turn around. "Death," He greeted. "I thought I told you to leave me alone."

"And not see those perky buns for, like, 60 years? Nuh-uh, I don't think so," Death crooned, and Peter could _feel_ him smiling mischievously.

Peter knew he was blushing but still turned around so he could tell Death off properly. Death stood on the car's hood, paying no attention to the body that was inside, despite it being the reason he was here. He had his cloak on, as per usual, so Peter had no chance of seeing his face-if Death _had_ a face. And Peter assumed Death was a 'he' given how many times he'd talked about his own dick.

"As much as I'd like to ask what's so interesting about my butt to you, I don't want to risk you going off on a spiel," Peter mocked.

"Awh but baby boy, you love my spiels!" Peter noticed that people were beginning to stare-if they hadn't been staring already.

"No, I really don't. Never have during the five years you've been stalking me." Frowning, Peter recalled the horror he felt when he returned to his dorm room only to find his roommate, (his best friend at the time) Harry, lying in the bathtub in a pool of his own blood, and Death himself standing on the rim of the tub, scribbling on a clipboard.

"Look at us, Petey-pie! We're like an old married couple!" Death paused and put a gloved hand on his chin. "Well, I'm old, you're fresh out of college. And we're not married. Yet. But hey, we're getting there!"

"Death, there's no way in hell that I'd ever date you." Peter sneered. "Let alone _marry_ you."

"Oh, sweet Pete. Sweet, sweet, Peter. I'll _find_ a way in hell that you'll date me. I live there, remember?" Death spread his arms, and a few people had to duck as the stick part of his scythe went swinging over their heads.

"That... makes no sense whatsoever. At all."

"Of course it does! You're just thinking too much, Pete. Just you wait, we'll get married one day."

Peter snickered. "If I was the last person on Earth, then maybe I'd give you a chance. Maybe." With that, he turned around and made to start walking again.

"Ya know what, Pete, I might just be able to make that happen." Death sounded thoughtful.

Peter stopped dead in his tracks and turned around. "What?"

Death had his clipboard out again and was flipping through the papers. "Yeah, if I put a pause on all births, and if I'm already admitting about 151,600 people a day to the afterlife, then it would take me...almost 50,800 days to admit everyone on the planet." He grinned. "But, if I double my work, then logically it would take 25,400 days, right? I'm not sure, I never learned geometry in school." He frowned and seemed to reminisce for a second.

"I'm not sure that's how it works-"

"Or!" He shouted, startling everyone around him, including Peter. "Or! Since that would take 68 whole _years_ and by then you would already probably be dead, baby boy, I could quadruple my work and it would only take 34 years!"

"Death, I don't-"

"Hmm, that's still a long time for humans. Maybe I could get the devil to help, Matt does owe me a favor. Then that would be, what, almost 16 years? I might be able to work with that..." He continued to mumble to himself, completely oblivious to the onlookers' disgust and confusion. Peter walked away.

~~~~~~~~

It had been two months and six days before Peter had had enough. The newspapers were filled with articles speculating the reasons behind the world's rapid population decrease, often featuring at least one award-winning scientist or college professor. Since most of the deaths were accidental (or, according to Peter, 'accidental'), blogs all over the internet were talking about how to stay safe and protect yourself. Last Peter checked (which was this morning), there had been over 60 million deaths since he and Death had last spoken.

If there was one silver lining, it was that Death hadn't spoken to him since the car wreck, presumably too busy with his work. Unfortunately, that meant that Peter hadn't had a chance to try and talk him out of killing off the entire world just so he could land a date with Peter. Which actually wasn't much of a silver lining at all.

Peter knew he needed to put a stop to this mindless mass-murdering (was that the right word? Was there even a word for what Death was doing?), so one night when he was walking home and a streetlight fell on the person walking in front of him, he didn't try to help. Not that he could've, the lamp part crushed her skull until all that was left of her head was a chunky stain on the sidewalk. But unlike everyone else, who gagged and ran away and looked the other direction, Peter sat next to her body and stayed there.

It wasn't long before Death appeared, scratching his hooded head. "Um, baby boy I gotta ask, what are you doing?"

Peter looked up and smiled. "I see you finally decided to appear again."

Death let out a chuckle. "Yeah, well, humans get scared pretty easily when they see me. I think they think that I'm gonna go for them next, which is totally not true! Like, I have a very intense schedule, I can't just whip out my scythe and take someone's head off! What will the newspapers think? The obituaries? No, I have to plan an exact date and time, otherwise it just won't work." He glanced at his wrist, where there wasn't a watch. "Speaking of schedules, mine's kinda tight. Not that I wouldn't love to stay and chat with you, Petey-pie, but there's an old man in Brazil who's callin' my name. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?"

Peter tried his best to stop his smile at Death's rant. So maybe he did sort of enjoy listening to Death's spiels; they were entertaining. And he definitely didn't like the sound of his voice-nope, not at all.

"Ummm, yeah. About that." Peter tried to gather his thoughts a bit. "Yeah, so,-"

"Can we speed this up a little, baby boy? I got a quota to fill."

"Yes!" Peter said, a little louder than he meant to. "Yeah, um, I actually wanted to talk to you about this whole thing." He gestured to the body in front of him.

Death crossed his arms. "What about it?"

"It's just... not right, to kill off the entire world just for a date."

"Ok, Petey-pie, let's get one thing straight." He leaned forward and held up a finger to Peter. "I do _not_ kill, or murder, or whatever. I hate those terms. Yeah, I arrange the when and where for someone to die, and then I guide their soul to the afterlife. I don't do the unaliving myself, I just set it up. I don't think I _can_ do the unaliving myself."

Peter felt very much like a scolded child, and although he didn't like it, he knew better than to rise to Death's bait. Because if Death was standing with a hand on his hip, leaning forward with his pointer finger waving less than three inches from Peter's face, what else could it be but bait?

But no, Peter was going to stay calm. He gently grabbed Death's finger between two of his own and moved it to the side. "Alright, you don't kill. Got it. But you still have to admit that this is _wrong_ , removing all the people from the planet just for something as insignificant as a date?"

Death shrugged, straightening up. "Well, Petey, you said if you were the last person on Earth then maybe I'd get a date. So, really-" He leaned in again, and if his face was even a _little_ closer to Peter's he'd be able to see if Death had a face. Honestly, it had been worrying him for years-"This is all _your_ fault."

"Wha-no-hey!" Once again, Peter could _feel_ Death grinning as he watched Peter stumble over his words. "No, it's not!"

"Oh, yes it is." And with that, he reached out and _booped_ Peter on the nose. Freakin' _booped_ him. "Now, not that this conversation hasn't been entertaining, I really have to go. Souls to harvest, appointments to make, all that jazz." He stood up fully and reached into his cloak, pulling out his clipboard. Scribbling down, he mumbled to himself, "Sarah Tanner...age 52... brunette I think, Petey, you were here when she died, was she a brunette?"

"Um, yeah, I think so."

"Cool, cool. Death by streetlight...Catholic...done!" He clicked his pen and stuffed it back into his robes along with his clipboard. "Alrighty, I'll see you later Petey-pie, in about 16ish years!" The hem of his robe started to crumble away into dust. Peter guessed that's how he transported long distances-Brazil _was_ awfully far from New York.

"Death-wait!" Peter lunged and grabbed his arm before he could completely turn to dust.

" _What_ , baby boy?" Death asked as he slowly reformed. "I gotta schedule, remember? And if I fail that schedule then it's gonna take a lot longer than 16 years to finally snag a date with you. Let me stick to my schedule."

Peter hesitated. "Well, I'd really hate for the entire world to die, it's not fair to the people you're...unaliving."

Death tapped his foot. "Point? What's your point, Petey?"

"I'llgoonadatewithyou."

"What'd you say? My hearing isn't as good as it used to be. That, or you just talk really fast."

"I'll do it," Peter sighed. "I'll go on a date with you, Death. Just stop kil-unaliving the entire world."

Death squealed, putting his gloved hands on the sides of his face (hood, really) like _The Scream_. "Really, Pete? You'll go on a date? With me? Without me having to reunite every person on Earth's soul with the ancestral plane?"

Peter laughed a little, and honestly, allowing himself to laugh at Death being himself, felt a little freeing. "Yeah."

An old man walking by stopped. "Are you kidding me? 60 million deaths so you could get a date with a twink? That's extreme, Death. Even for you."

Death gasped, squishing his cheeks (hood) harder. "Stan Lee? I thought I, well, y'know," He paused, then whispered, "Reunited you."

The old man laughed. "Who's Stan Lee? My name's Stanly. See, it says right here on my nametag." He pointed to his chest, where there was a classic 'Hello! My name is' sticker. Indeed, the sticker read, 'Stanly'. "The old folk's home I stay at gave it to me when I first arrived, said I should wear it while people got to know me. As if those grannies would remember what they had for breakfast, much less me!"

Death swept forward in a mock bow. "Oh, of course. My bad Stanly."

After Stanly had left, Death whispered to himself. "That was _so_ Stan Lee. How the actual hell does he keep escaping."

"Um, Death? You alright there?" Peter waved his hand in front of Death's hood.

"Huh? Oh! Petey! Right, our date! Can I pick you up at seven?"

Peter chuckled at Death's scatterbrainedness. "I moved since we first met, you know."

"Oh, I know. Apartment 207 on Seventh street, right? A lot better than your old one, though the landlord's a bitch. Don't worry though, she had a happy little accident a few hours after we made the deal. One of the first on my list, actually," Peter could feel Death's mood shift as he rambled on about Peter's old landlord.

"I don't know if I should be flattered or creeped out that you know where I live. I'm personally leaning more toward creeped out, though."

"What no, don't be creeped out. I've been there before, to unalive some people and I just happened to see you."

"And you _didn't_ say hi?"

Death looked away. "What do you think about Mexican food for our date, Petey? I know a lot of good places."

Peter just laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh that was my first Spideypool fic. Please feel free to tell me what you think in the comments!
> 
> Also, the original prompt was:   
> Death has been flirting with you for a long time, but have become rather annoying. After another attempt to hang out with you again, you jokingly tell them, "If I was the last person on Earth, maybe I'd give you a chance." Death firmly believes in that, and will double their work.


End file.
